The Devil and the Flu
by Dino76
Summary: Shameless Lucifer fluff. Our favourite devil has an unpleasant encounter with something called "the flu".
1. Chapter 1

**The Devil and the Flu**

 **Author:** Dino76  
 **Type of work:** Fiction  
 **Title:** The Devil and the Flu  
 **Fandom:** Lucifer  
 **Main Characters:** Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker, Dan Espinoza  
 **Summary:** Shameless Lucifer fluff. Our favourite devil has an unpleasant encounter with something called "the flu".  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Word Count:** 8800  
 **Notes & Warnings:** fluff  
 **Spoiler up to:** Could be placed anywhere actually, but I'd say it is set somewhere in Season 2  
 **Author's Note:** My seriously Lucifer-deprived muse needed a little fluff. And this is where we went. Dan and I are still wondering how he got roped into this, but somehow he did. I'd appreciate some feedback to improve my writing. It's unbetaed and written in a foreign language, so I apologize for any typos and mistakes. I hope you like it.

 **Chapter 1**

He felt … weird. As if something was seriously wrong with him. Ever since he got up this morning his body felt as if he'd been run over by a bus during the night. There was a disturbingly burning sensation _right_ behind his eyes that was completely unknown to him and also highly annoying. The glass of scotch he'd downed this morning contributing nothing to improve this matter.

Sudden changes in direction made him dizzy. And just now the short track from his awesome vintage car to the crime scene where Detective Chloe Decker was waiting for him had somehow exhausted him. There was actually a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead. He didn't sweat. And he was breathing heavily. Through his mouth. Because his nose felt awkwardly stuffed. As if someone had blocked it up with cement. All this was unpleasantly alien to him. Up until now he'd never even felt exhausted before. And he would of course never openly admit it, but all in all Lucifer Morningstar – the devil in persona – was not feeling up to his usual devilishly awesome self. And that was definitely reason to worry.

"Detective," he greeted Chloe with a short nod of his head. And damn it, even his voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else. She looked up from the body lying on the sidewalk.

"Oh, hi, Lucifer," she said and then with a slight frown added, "Are you feeling all right?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he replied clearing his throat subtly. "Beautiful day." He gestured towards the sky. "Why do you ask?" Was his current state so blatantly obvious? Chloe stood up and just shook her head. He interpreted that as a dismissal of her question and went on, "Looks like the poor fellow jumped from the roof."

"Yes, it seems pretty straightforward now that I'm here," she sighed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have called you."

"No need to be," he replied. "It's always a pleasure to help you. Even if I'm just pointing out the obvious." He underlined the last part with a flourish of his hand and a half pirouette. He didn't even know what or how it happened. One moment he was whirling around in a grant gesture of his superior style and extravagance and the next he was stumbling dizzily and desperately searching for something to hold onto to avoid a graceless face-plant next to the dead man. His blurred vision caught on to something and his hand blindly clasped around something strong. Feeling relieved he almost didn't notice a strong hand grabbing his upper arm to steady him.

"Woah, easy there." When his vision had normalized, he turned to his saviour to thank him. Unfortunately it was Detective Douche.

"I ... apologize," he mumbled still blinking rapidly to get his momentum back. The burning behind his eyes had increased with his near fall and why did his throat suddenly feel so scratchy?

"Are you all right?" Detective Douche asked and Lucifer wasn't perfectly sure but there was something like concern on Dan's face. Mortified he noticed that his own hand was still holding onto Dan for support and he quickly pulled it back.

"Of course I am," he said and almost didn't recognize his own voice. It sounded hoarse and strange even to his ears. Everything about him was weird today. "Why do people keep asking me that?" He shrugged off Dan's hand and made a show of straightening his suit jacket.

"You look a bit pale," Detective Decker added. "Are you sure, you're okay?"

"I am!" he said vehemently. "Now could we please give our undivided attention to this poor sod who obviously thought he had so little to live for that jumping into a painful death seemed like the only reasonable solution?" The Detectives exchanged one last look that he couldn't read but then they focused again on James Mason, their suicide victim.

Lucifer on the other hand was quite content that the Detectives' scrutinizing eyes were firmly locked on the victim. He sensed that they somehow knew more about his current situation than he himself did. Maybe it was one of those human things that he hadn't yet encountered. But this strange feeling was oddly disturbing. Every move hurt. He squinted and wished he had taken his sunglasses with him. What was wrong with his eyes? Why was he blinded by the sun? The sun had never bothered him before. And what was wrong with his head? He'd never experienced a headache before, but this felt like one. The sun hurt his eyes and the pain in his eyes accelerated his growing headache. If he could just close them, everything would be better he assumed. His throat hurt as well. Every time he swallowed there was a prickling burn right at the back of his mouth. _What was wrong with him?_

He knelt down next to the detectives to appear normal. They were still talking about their victim but he somehow couldn't follow their dialogue, their voices seemed far away, so he concentrated on breathing subtly through his mouth. Which was an almost impossible task. Even to his ears his breathing sounded awfully loud. And then they stood up again rather abruptly. And he felt dizzy. Again. And for a second time today and what he hoped to be the last, Detective Douche grabbed his upper arm and steadied him with surprising ease.

For a short moment everything went black and he pressed his fingers to his eyes until it had passed. This was embarrassing. Strong hands led him a few steps to a nearby bench and he was pushed down.

"Lucifer, you're sick," Chloe announced. "Go sit in my car. I'll drive you home in a few minutes." He scoffed at that. It was highly unlikely – no, _impossible_ – that his current state was somehow connected to a _disease_.

"What? I am not sick. The Lord of Hell is not affected by your petty human diseases," he replied snorting. The devil? Sick? He could only laugh at that thought. Unfortunately his snort turned into a hacking cough and he quickly covered his mouth with the crease of his elbow. He'd seen humans do that when they coughed. When his lungs had finally calmed down again, he looked up at two identical smirks on the Detectives' faces. He fought to keep the blush at bay. Apparently Detective Decker was right and there was something wrong with him. Maybe he had fallen ill? Could his missing invincibility in the proximity of the Detective also cause him to fall victim to human diseases? He was still pondering this possibility when she put the back of her hand on his forehead. He recoiled slightly and tried standing up again. He felt silly sitting while they stood before him. His attempt was immediately quelled by a strong hand on his shoulder that kept him right where he was. Annoyed he looked up at Detective Douche.

"You're burning up!" Chloe exclaimed. "Why didn't you stay in bed? You should have called in sick!" He was aware that he was staring at her, most likely looking like an imbecile, trying to understand what she'd just said, when another hand touched his forehead. This time it was Dan's. And this time he recoiled – a lot. And blushed. He may be getting along better with the Detective's annoying ex-husband but that didn't mean that they were on touching terms.

"You're right, Chloe," Dan said looking serious. "He's running a fever. He shouldn't be here."

"All right!" Lucifer exclaimed and had another futile attempt at standing up – this was getting ridiculous. "Would you please stop talking about me as if I wasn't right here! – And stop touching me!" He noted with pleasure that Detective Douche did look a bit embarrassed and withdrew his hand from Lucifer's shoulder. Detective Decker on the other hand looked ... concerned ... and determined and not at all affected by his exclamation.

"Come on, now," she said. "Sit down in my car. I'll finish up and then I'll take you home. You need rest."

Lucifer just looked at her bewildered. When did he go from self-reliant Devil to sick human that needed to be taken home?

"I'm fine. I am perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you very much." Chloe didn't look convinced.

"He really shouldn't be driving with a fever," Dan interrupted. And Lucifer threw him a dirty look. Of course Detective Douche would take her side in the matter. "I can finish up here, Chloe. Take him home. – And I can pick up Trixie from school."

"Excuse me?! I am still sitting right here! In case you hadn't noticed," Lucifer said loudly even waving his arm in front of their faces. He only got a sharply slapped wrist for his trouble.

"You're right," Chloe said without further acknowledging him other than batting his hand away. "Call me if you need help." And then she grabbed his arm and with Dan's help (of course Dan would be helping) pulled him up. This manhandling was grating on his nerves. It was not the fun kind he usually enjoyed participating in. Without further ado the Detective started dragging him off presumably in the direction of her car.

"Detective, what are you doing?" he asked when he found his voice again.

"I told you, I'm taking you home," she replied throwing him a concerned look.

"First of all, you didn't tell me anything. – You told Detective Douche. Nobody asked for my opinion on this matter."

"Lucifer," she said exasperated. "You are sick. You have a fever. You should be at home resting."

Further discussion seemed pointless at this moment so he just went along. He'd never admit it, but he was actually feeling too weak to protest and that a few hours of sleep sounded like a good prospect.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Chloe had stopped at a pharmacy on their way to Lucifer's penthouse. The self-proclaimed devil napping soundly on the passenger seat all the while. She was slightly worried about him. His forehead had felt really hot to the touch (and yes, she had checked again as he fell asleep in her car).

Parking her car behind Lux, she gently shook his shoulder.

"Lucifer." He steered lightly at her voice and squinted sluggishly. His bloodshot eyes took some time until they focused on her face. Another clear sign that he was feeling less than stellar. "Come on, time for bed."

"I do hope you're offering to join me, Detective," he replied. Chloe just rolled her eyes at him and got out of the car. She pushed him to the elevator and got him up to the penthouse, where he made a beeline for the liquor cabinet.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked incredulously taking the bottle out of his hand setting it back down before firmly steering him in the direction of his bedroom. "Go and put on your pyjamas."

Obviously at a loss for words he obeyed and vanished into the bedroom. Making a mental note to cherish this very special moment, where Lucifer Morningstar had been speechless, Chloe went around the apartment in search for a blanket and pillow to put on the couch in case Lucifer wanted to watch TV. Not finding the necessary items, she gave up and started unpacking bottles of medicine and a thermometer. She would just get the blanket and pillow from his bedroom once Lucifer had changed.

"Are you okay in there?" she asked because really it shouldn't take him this long to change.

"Of course I am," he replied with a raspy voice. "You're quite welcome to come in and convince yourself." Chloe rolled her eyes while checking the batteries in the thermometer. Knowing Lucifer, he probably didn't own one. Someone who kept insisting that he was invincible had no use for a thermometer. Just as she was starting to be concerned about his prolonged absence, he emerged from the bedroom shirtless and bare-footed.

"Are you trying to catch your death?" she asked exasperated.

"You said to put on pyjamas!" he replied. "I'll let you know that this is 100 percent more clothing than I usually wear to sleep." Again rolling her eyes at his wriggling eyebrows and indecent gesture towards his groin, she pushed past him into the spacious bedroom.

"Detective, you could have just said the word." Chloe started rummaging through a sideboard. "What are you doing? – The toys are in the nightstand." Finding what she'd been looking for, Chloe pushed a pair of socks and a plain black but perfectly ironed t-shirt into Lucifer's arms.

"Put this on," she ordered and gathered the blanket and a pillow from his bed. She was arranging them on the sofa when he followed. She could tell with one look that he was out of his comfort zone and clearly had no idea what she was doing. Or why. Standing in the middle of his living room wearing pyjamas he looked lost – and years younger. Chloe could see the thin coat of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Come on," she said gesturing towards the sofa. "Sit down." He approached carefully and sat down, all the while eyeing her curiously.

He made no move to get under the blanket although she could tell by the very small shivers that ran through his shoulders that he must be cold. She grabbed the blanket and tucked it around him ignoring his startled expression.

Turning around she gave him a moment to adjust while she got the thermometer from where she had put it on the bar. With her back to him, she tried to quell the burning anger she felt for his parents, who'd, basing on Lucifer's strange behaviour to someone caring for him, obviously never bothered to tend to their son when he needed it. She didn't even dare to imagine how deep the emotional wounds were that his traumatising childhood had left. She still shuddered whenever she thought of the beastly scars on his back. And those were just the visible signs. No-one could tell how deep the psychological scars went.

Grabbing the thermometer she returned to his side. He took the offered item holding it in his hand and studying it closely. Then he looked back at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What now?" he finally asked fiddling with the small object. Chloe squinted at him trying to determine whether he was pulling her leg or really didn't know how to use a simple thermometer. He looked genuinely unsure. No smirk on his face, so she relented.

"It's a thermometer," she said slowly. "You put it in your mouth. It'll measure how high a fever you have." He nodded understanding and did as he was told. "Put it under your tongue."

"How long does this procedure take?" Lucifer asked.

"Shush," Chloe replied. "You're not supposed to talk right now. It'll be over in a minute." When the thermometer beeped, she took it from his mouth wiping it down.

"That's not good," she mumbled putting her hand on Lucifer's forehead again. He was burning up.

"What does it say?" he asked leaning over to read as well. "102.2? What does that imply?"

"That your fever is really high," Chloe replied standing up. She quickly navigated her way through the kitchen, grabbing a spoon and putting water in the electric kettle for tea. She also got a bottle of water for Lucifer. Returning she grabbed the medicine from the bar and sat next to him on the sofa.

She could feel his eyes on her as she studied the instructions and then carefully poured the gooey liquid on the spoon.

"What on earth is that?" he asked bewildered.

"It's medicine to bring your fever down," she explained bringing the spoon to his mouth. "Take it," she added as he made no move to swallow the liquid.

"It smells positively awful," he complained. "I have no desire to find out how it tastes." Chloe sighed as he leaned back and actually crossed his arms, conjuring the image of a sulky child.

"Are you pouting?" she asked incredulously. He scoffed at her.

"I most certainly am not!" he exclaimed. "I am ..." He didn't get to finish the sentence as Chloe had quickly and efficiently pushed the spoon in his open mouth. Jabbing a finger at his face, she warned, "Don't you dare spit it out!"

Spluttering and coughing he made quite a spectacle out of having to swallow a little medicine. Reminding Chloe of Trixie whenever she got sick.

"It's disgusting!" he whined loudly. "You would have made a great torturer in hell!" Rolling her eyes – again – (she was probably risking permanent eye damage, if she kept this up) she stood up, prudently taking the bottle of medicine with her lest he tried to get rid of it.

"Get used to the taste," she said without sympathy. "You'll need to take that every five hours until your fever is down."

"I most definitely will not!" he said and without turning around Chloe was very sure that he was sulking about the horrible unfairness of it all.

"What flavour tea do you like?" she queried to change the subject.

"Jagertee."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lucifer. The only alcohol you're going to get is the one in your medicine."

"How come it's all right if it's prescribed? That hardly seems fair!" he called after her before erupting in a hacking coughing fit.

"Well pour you," Chloe said once she had returned with a cup of tea that she put on the table to cool down before handing Lucifer the bottled water to quell the irritation in his throat. He took a few gulps before leaning back on the couch, looking utterly exhausted, eyes closed and breathing heavily through his mouth. The coughing had drained his last bit of energy from his body. Chloe put her hand on his forehead again and was surprised when Lucifer practically purred.

"Your hand feels nice. It's cold," he mumbled and she let her hand rest a bit longer until his body heat had cancelled out the cooler temperature. Who would have thought that he'd relish her soothing touch this much?

"Lie down," she murmured running her fingers soothingly through his hair and he melted in the touch. "I'll get you a cool washcloth for your head."

Upon returning she saw that Lucifer had lain down curling on his side. That he was so compliant and silent scared her more than she would like to admit. The fever must be getting to him worse than she initially thought. She sat down by his hip careful not to jostle him and patted his cheek with the damp washcloth before putting it on his forehead and temple. He sighed, again relishing in the gentle treatment.

"Why do I hurt all over?" he asked in a small voice looking at her from beneath long lashes. The mother in her immediately jumped to comfort him. He looked so lost and hurt buried beneath his black silk blanket that he'd drawn up to his chin. She put her hand back in his hair and gently carded through the thick strands. Chloe would never have thought that one day she'd be sitting next to a sick Lucifer comforting him as if it was Trixie lying there. But his hurt expression and helplessness just called to the heart of a mother within her. And right now he didn't look and behave at all like the suave bar owner that she had first despised but like a little boy in need of some comfort that he had been denied while growing up.

"You caught the flu," she murmured. "It'll be better in a few days. You need to sleep. I'll stay with you."

"But you have work ... and the spawn ... responsibilities. – I don't want to be a burden," he added almost inaudibly, his eyelids drooping already as a result of his battered body demanding sleep combined with the gentle administrations to his scalp.

"Shush now," Chloe muttered. "You are not a burden. I am your friend and you need my help. That's what friends do for each other." She stayed next to him gently stroking through his hair until his laboured breathing had turned to soft snores.

Chloe tucked the blanket tightly around his still form and turned the washcloth to let the other still cool side rest on his forehead. Then she busied herself in the kitchen, quickly preparing a soup out of the ingredients she found in Lucifer's fridge. Not at all astonished at how much fruit and vegetables filled his kitchen since she had actually never seen him eat in her presence.

When the soup was finally simmering on the stove, she went back to check on Lucifer. He had turned in his sleep, the washcloth now rested next to him on the couch. She picked it up and checked his forehead again to gauge his temperature. He was still very hot to the touch which worried her immediately. The medicine should be having an effect on him by now. She wetted the washcloth again and put it back on his forehead, preparing herself for a worry-lined and tiring afternoon and night. She had spent nights at Trixie's bedside when she'd had a fever this high and they had been long and nightmare-ridden nights. She didn't expect the coming night to be any different and was definitely sure, that she would not leave Lucifer to fend for himself. That would be just cruel.

Taking the cooled cup of tea that Lucifer wouldn't be drinking, she settled back against the sofa next to the curled up form of her civilian consultant and switched on the TV.


	3. Chapter 3

09.02.2017

 **Chapter 3**

"Dan, I don't know what to do!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "His fever is still above 102 degree and all night he's been hallucinating and having nightmares! The medicine is not working and he panics every time I mention the doctor or a hospital – which is actually worse than the nightmares! I didn't sleep all night and I'm at my wits' end." She sighed and ran a hand through her discarded hair. "I just called to ask for advice." She could almost hear Dan's thinking process over the phone. Could definitely picture him standing in his apartment looking at the ceiling and pinching the bridge of his nose. Finally he exhaled loudly and said, "Trixie is with my parents today. They're taking her to the zoo. I'll come and help you. I don't have any idea what to do. But you need some sleep at least. Maybe we can think of something together." She could hear him sigh again.

"Thank you, Dan," she whispered sincerely. He just snorted.

"I don't know what I'm thinking. I don't even like the guy," he mumbled. "Should I bring anything from the pharmacy?" Upon hearing a negative, he hung up. Groaning loudly he ran both hands through his hair. How did he get roped into nursing Lucifer Morningstar of all people back to health?

Chloe had sounded really worried, and he still hated for her to be upset. So he grabbed his jacket bristling again at his own stupidity and lack of a backbone when it came to Chloe and got in his car.

The elevator announced his arrival with a soft ping and he immediately spotted Chloe perched on Lucifer's sofa. She whirled around a washcloth in her hand, but relaxed straight away upon seeing his awkward wave. Dan gingerly stepped into the spacious living room. He had been here only once before to warn Lucifer that Malcolm was out to kill him and he hadn't taken the time to look around then.

He noticed the large Steinway standing elegantly in the middle of the room. Not a speck of dust on its polished black surface. And of course Lucifer had an overly spacious bar with a well-stocked liquor cabinet in the middle of his living room, which was decently illuminated by soft spots of light. Chloe came rushing to his side and surprised him by hugging him tightly.

"I'm so glad you're here," she mumbled drawing back.

"How is he?" Dan asked his eyes locking on the miserable bundle lying curled up under a thick blanket, only his jet black hair visible. Which, Dan noted with amusement, was actually curly. He'd have to remember that for future leverage once Lucifer was back to his annoying self. The suave man obviously spent a lot of time and energy on straightening his hair every morning.

"Not good. Not good at all." Chloe's voice drew him back to the problem at hand and Dan took a moment to look at her closely. She looked tired, exhausted even. Her hair and clothes looked dishevelled and her complexion was pale, most likely stemming from a sleepless night. Her expression showed deep concern and worry about Lucifer's state.

"He's asleep now – thankfully without any nightmares. – But his fever won't go down. It's gone up to 105 degree throughout the night. Now it's back down to 102.5. But it's only midday and a fever usually rises throughout the day," she summed up. Dan nodded in acknowledgement. That really sounded worse than he'd imagined when Chloe first called him. And he hated to admit it, but he actually felt a pang of sympathy for Lucifer. He understood Chloe's insistence on staying and looking after him. No-one should be left alone with a fever that high and Lucifer didn't have any friends or family that Dan knew of or that he was particularly close to.

Dan took a step to the sofa to get a closer look at Lucifer's sleeping form. His face was partly hidden by the washcloth Chloe had placed on his forehead but Dan could see the thin layer of sweat on his cheeks, his slightly parted lips and hear the raspy breath that passed through his mouth since his nose was probably blocked. Dan looked back at Chloe's worried face.

"Okay," he said. "You need to sleep for a few hours. You're no help in your current state." Dan decided and held up a hand to stop her protest. "I'll stay and look after him." On her dubious look, he added with a smirk, "I won't kill him, promise."

She still didn't look completely convinced, but nonetheless agreed. Her quick compliance a clear sign for the degree of her exhaustion.

"Everything you need is over there." She pointed at the bar. "I gave him the medication for the fever only half an hour ago. So you need to wait at least another four hours for the next dose. The bathroom is back there." Another finger point. "And the kitchen over there. There is coffee for you in the kitchen and I made soup. I doubt Lucifer will feel up to eating anything. – Are you sure you wanna do this?" she added sceptically eyeing him carefully and offering him one last chance to drop out.

"Yes. I'll be fine. – Lucifer will be fine. I _am_ a father, I know how to treat a sick person. – Go and lie down now. I'm sure there is a guest room somewhere in this enormous apartment." She grinned at him and caught him off guard by wrapping her arms around him for a second time in less than a few minutes.

"Thank you."

"Go now," he repeated taking off his jacket since he'd be here a few hours. He watched her disappear behind another partly hidden door and went about scrutinizing the apartment.

Everything was decorated very modestly and in a classical style, somewhat befitting the strange individual inhabiting it. Thinking of said inhabitant, Dan took a few steps towards Lucifer still lying motionless on his leather couch. He carefully took the washcloth from his face, slightly taken aback by the heat radiating from the once cool cloth and ghosted a hand over Lucifer's forehead, not quite touching him. He didn't need to. There was so much heat radiating from the man, that Dan could finally understand the full extent of Chloe's concern. Lucifer's eyes were moving behind closed lids, the muscles in his face and neck strained. He must be in pain. Quickly walking back to the bathroom, Dan wetted the cloth again, wringing it until it was not dripping anymore, and returned to the living room just in time to see Lucifer tossing his head from left to right and back again, his hands scrambling for something to hold onto, obviously caught in some sort of feverish nightmare.

Not knowing what to do, Dan stayed back watching nervously. If this had been Trixie, he'd rushed to her side comforting her. But this was Lucifer, a man he shared a mutual dislike with. Not to mention that Lucifer'd probably think him nuts if he found him hovering at his sickbed.

Lucifer's tossing increased in strength and vigour; his feet kicking the blanket off his body, while his thrashing caused him to almost topple from the sofa. His face twisted in a horrible mask of pain and fear.

"No,... please, Father..." Subconsciously Dan's heart went out to Lucifer who was clearly reliving a scene from his childhood that according to his frequent snide remarks had been far from happy and his father far from loving and caring. But Dan still stood rooted to the spot, somehow still unwilling but also unable to move. Meanwhile Lucifer's muttered calls grew louder; his face showing pure distress.

"Please, Father, please," he begged pitifully. "I'm sorry! – Forgive me! There is no need for you to do this!" At some point in his rambling Lucifer had sat up and opened his eyes. But they were unfocused, looking at no-one, but clearly still seeing something... someone. Dan could see the panic in his dark bloodshot eyes; and pain... a lot of unadulterated pain. He was still caught in his fever-induced nightmare. Then he whirled around, looking at someone else only he could see.

"Mum! – Mum, help me! Please? – Don't let him do this to me, Mum!" Lucifer's breath hitched and Dan was sure he didn't make a conscious decision but somehow he was moving towards Lucifer. Sitting down on the small coffee table, he cautiously grabbed the other man's shoulder and shook him gently, being careful not to startle him. All the while thinking, _'Oh god, what did they do to you, Lucifer?'_

"Hey, Lucifer," he said loudly. "Wake up. It's just a dream. Come on, man, wake up." Something seemed to snap the other man out of this nightmarish hellhole. Lucifer's gaze fell on Dan and he abruptly moved back on the couch. His eyes darting from Dan to the hand that had just now held his shoulder but had lost touch as he moved back. Thinking of a caged animal when regarding Lucifer's posture, Dan stayed still in hopes of not causing him further reason to panic. He just needed a few moments to collect himself. Lucifer's eyes were still darting wildly around the room, as if he was just now realising that his parents' appearance was just a trick of his imagination. Or maybe he was looking for a possible flight route, Dan couldn't be sure. His shirt sweat-soaked and his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, he looked about as miserable as one could get, Dan thought. And to top it all off this embarrassing interlude happened while in the presence of a man, he didn't even like. If he hadn't been feeling bad for Lucifer before, he surely was now.

The panic was slowly subsiding, but the tension in Lucifer's shoulders stayed. And a wave of rage ran through Dan at the thought of the parents that caused their child to wake up practically screaming years after the apparent abuse had stopped.

"Everything's fine," he assured him calmly when Lucifer's eyes finally fixed on him. "It was just a nightmare." A very vivid one, Dan added in his head. He regarded Lucifer carefully. It was unusual for the man to be so quiet. And then he spied something even more unusual. First he wasn't sure because there was this feverish hue on Lucifer's cheeks but there was a definite red tinge creeping up the other man's neck. Dan watched it closely, inching slowly all the way up to the tips of his ears. Noticing his rude stare, Dan quickly looked away. Having a nightmare, fever-induced or not, in front of a man he barely liked was embarrassing enough. He didn't need to make it worse. Dan would of course never hold this little scene against Lucifer or even tease him about it. He did have a fever and couldn't help it. Anyhow he already had the curly hair, he didn't need anything else. Although Lucifer probably didn't need to know that, maybe the memory of this scene would make him a bit humbler?

"Where's the Detective?" Lucifer finally asked with a raspy voice in an obvious attempt to deflect from his current situation.

"I sent her to sleep for a few hours," Dan explained handing Lucifer a bottle of water. "She's been up all night. – You gave her quite a scare." Lucifer looked sad at this revelation putting the bottle down and fiddling with the label.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "That wasn't my intention."

"You're sick," Dan said matter-of-factly. "Of course it wasn't your intention. Everything's fine. She's just exhausted. Which means you'll have to make do with me." Lucifer grinned slightly at that, looking so much younger than he usually did.

"Well, well, Detective Espinoza. Detective by night, nursemaid by day."

"Which reminds me," Dan said quickly getting the thermometer from the bar and handing it to Lucifer who he noticed was shivering considerably. "Put it in your mouth. – I'll be right back." Making a quick decision, he went to Lucifer's bedroom and started rummaging through his closet in search for fresh socks, shirt and pyjama bottoms. While he was busy, he heard the beeping of the thermometer from the other room.

"What does it say?" he called out but received no reply. Quickly grabbing the clothes he hurried back out. Lucifer was fiddling with the thermometer staring at it thoughtfully.

"What does it say?" Dan repeated setting the clothes down and reaching for the object in question. The display had already been erased, he noticed. Looking exasperated at his patient, he asked for a third time, "What did it say?" Pronouncing every word slowly and trying hard to quell his irritation at Lucifer's reluctance to share the vital information.

"Oh, everything's fine," Lucifer hedged, now fiddling with a lose threat. "Fine, just fine. – I'm feeling better." He looked up throwing him a sad excuse of the award-winning smile he usually displayed. Dan narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms and somehow that caused Lucifer to look back at his fiddling hands – in shame? Dan wasn't sure, but he clearly recognised this behaviour. He was after all the father of an eight-year-old. The restless hands, the cast down eyes, the nervousness, the obvious refusal to answer a simple question. Lucifer was hiding something. It was just so uncharacteristic for the man sitting in front of him to give such a terribly poor performance.

He was a pain in the ass, sure. But he was also very eloquent and self-assured; he could convince anyone of his point of view. The fever must be getting to him, Dan thought. Quickly deciding what he needed to do, he held the thermometer out again.

"Put it back in your mouth," he ordered using his best 'Dad-voice'. Maybe that would make an impression. The cop-voice, he knew, never worked with Lucifer. The bowed head shot up swiftly at the order.

"Why?" Dan was sure he could detect a definite whine in his voice. Lucifer must have noticed it too, because he repeated his question using a deeper voice.

"Because I don't believe you. – Take it. – I'm not letting up until you do," he added cold-heartily. Lucifer regarded him for a few moments, apparently judging his chances of getting away with this. If it had been Trixie, he'd have threatened to put it someplace else if she didn't comply. But he almost blushed, just thinking about threatening Lucifer with _that_. Not to mention that he'd never actually go through with it. And if he'd learned one thing from parenting, it was that you never made a threat you were not willing to carry out.

Fortunately Lucifer took the thermometer with a sigh and plopped it back in his mouth with a 'happy-now'-glare in Dan's direction. Dan just crossed his arms again and regarded Lucifer closely. He was still shivering although he'd gotten back under the covers. He needed to change his sweaty clothes.

When the beeping announced the end of the measuring, Dan quickly snatched the thermometer from Lucifer's mouth, earning an outraged look.

"104 degree," he read throwing Lucifer a dark look. "That is not fine." He narrowed his eyes again and Lucifer had at least the decency to look ashamed at being caught in an almost lie. He did pride himself on always telling the truth; although he did leave a few things out if it suited him.

Dan sighed and gestured towards the fresh clothes he'd brought from his bedroom. "Change into those. You need to get out of your sweaty clothes. – I can't give you any more of the medicine – you just had a dose not one hour ago." The other man actually looked relieved upon hearing this, but Dan could see that the fever was affecting him more than he tried to let on. Wincing whenever he changed positions as he did now to grab a paper tissue to blow his nose.

"I have to try something else," Dan mumbled more to himself than Lucifer. "And it's gonna be unpleasant."

"It can hardly be worse than the concoction your ex-wife has been forcing down my throat," he joked half-heartedly. "And I feel like crap. I doubt anything you do is going to make it worse." Slightly taken aback by the honesty in Lucifer's voice, Dan replied, "Don't get your hopes up. – Get changed. I'll be back soon." Quickly walking to the kitchen to grab a few dishtowels, Dan then made his way to the bathroom only to stop short at the sight of Lucifer standing shirtless in the main room, his back to Dan. And there on his back, he saw two of the most gruesome scars he'd ever laid eyes on. They were crescent-shaped _and huge_ , positioned near his shoulder blades on either side; their angry red colour standing in stark contrast to his pale back and almost glowing in the dimmed room. The edges were ridged, a clear sign that the wounds hadn't been treated properly but rather left to heal by themselves.

Startled by his gasp, Lucifer whirled around, losing his momentum and sat back on the couch gracelessly.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked attempting to cover his near fall with an inappropriate question, while quickly putting the fresh shirt over his head to cover his torso.

"What happened to your back?" Dan finally found the courage to ask ignoring Lucifer's earlier question. He expected another quip or some sort of deflection, but definitely not the words he heard next, that took his breath away and made him clench his fists unintentionally.

"Gift from my father." Dan could only stare at Lucifer's bent head for a long moment. Rage building in the pit of his stomach that seemed to clench his intestines in an iron grip. How could any parent do that to a child? He felt a seething anger at Lucifer's father whose abuse and neglect marred his son's body so cruelly and caused him nightmares even decades later.

"Were you not on your way to get a new torturing device?" Lucifer's question brought Dan back to the present and he quickly went to the bathroom to accomplish his task. He wetted the dishtowels in lukewarm water, while concentrating on breathing to cool his temper. There was nothing he could do to redo Lucifer's childhood. If there was the possibility to go back in time and sack his dad, he would. No child deserved to be beaten or otherwise abused.

He concentrated on the task at hand; bringing Lucifer's fever down. He wrung the towels. They shouldn't be too cold since Lucifer's temperature was so high. He remembered his grandmother lecturing him on the right temperature for cold compresses when he'd asked her for advice. He grabbed two more towels to prevent the couch from getting wet and mentally prepared himself for the fact, that he was about to put cold compresses on a grown man; deeply wishing his grandma would be here to do it. The task at hand would definitely be unpleasant. For both of them. Dan could also vividly remember his grandmother tormenting him with this treatment whenever his fever had spiked dangerously high. But it had helped and it wouldn't cause any damage.

Returning to the living room with his gatherings, he pulled the coffee table closer to the couch and sat down. Lucifer was eyeing him carefully with a feverish gaze. He had gotten back under the covers, his sweaty clothes lying on the ground a few feet away.

"All right," Dan said blowing out another deep breath. "This is gonna be unpleasant."

"I'm assuming unpleasant for me," Lucifer interrupted.

"Yeah, of course," Dan agreed. "But it's not gonna be a walk in the park for me either. I've never done that to an adult."

"How very reassuring."

"Okay," Dan started. "You need to bare your lower legs." Lucifer eyed him sceptically. "And then I'm gonna put the towels around your calves. It's supposed to bring your fever down. It usually works pretty well and I don't have any other ideas."

"And this is your grand plan?" Lucifer scoffed. "Putting dishtowels around my legs? – First of all I'd like to point out that this seems like a very medieval treatment – even to my ears. And second of all, I can hardly imagine that this is going to be as unpleasant as you're making it out to be. – I mean you said that it's a treatment for children. How bad can it be then?"

"Just keep that thought in mind," Dan said watching Lucifer pull the legs of his pyjama pants up above his knees. The smug look on the other man's face and the condescending tone made the task at hand considerably easier.

Dan put the dry towel beneath the legs to shield the expensive leather couch from damage. He glanced at Lucifer again who looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. Well maybe he had. Who'd have thought he'd be sitting here nursing Lucifer back to health on a Saturday afternoon.

"Well, commence," Lucifer said drily. "I'm all ready to submit to this apparent torment." The condescending tone and smug grin that was still plastered on his face was all the encouragement Dan needed.

He grabbed Lucifer's left leg and draped one of the dishtowels beneath it before quickly and with strong, steady hands pushed the leg down, holding it in place while simultaneously wrapping the towel around it.

Just as Dan had expected (and he couldn't quite suppress the smirk at that; not that he put in much effort) Lucifer tried yanking his leg out of his grasp as soon as his calf touched the cool dishtowel.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed loudly and immediately started coughing from the strain in his voice. His leg twitching vigorously. Dan took the change while Lucifer was preoccupied with hacking up a lung to swiftly repeat the procedure on the other leg. Again Lucifer tried to put up a fight but in his weakened state, he was no match for Dan. He just held the legs down until Lucifer stopped trying to jerk them away and his skin had accustomed to the temperature.

"Bloody hell!" he repeated once his coughing fit had passed and leant his head back in exhaustion. "You certainly weren't exaggerating." Dan just gave him a sheepish smile and wrapped both legs in another, dry towel. He did feel bad for the other man's discomfort. He'd been on the receiving end of this treatment often enough to sympathise. Taking another close look at his patient, he noticed that his brief struggle had drained him off any remaining energy.

"I'll leave them for about five to ten minutes, depending on how fast your body heats them up. – Then I'll change them." Lucifer's eyes snapped open again.

"You'll change them?" he repeated incredulously.

"Oh course I will," Dan said with a frown. "Did you think I'd just leave you here to fend for yourself?"

"No, no," he hedged. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?"

"I was hoping that there would be no need to repeat this procedure." This time it was Dan's turn to snort.

"We're going to do this for the next half hour." Lucifer threw him another disbelieving and pleading look. Did he seriously try the puppy eyes? "By then your temperature should be considerably lower." He _was_ doing the puppy eyes. Well, a very sad rendition of them.

"Is that really necessary?" he asked sweetly.

"Oh yes," Dan nodded trying hard not to laugh at the sight before him.

"Is there nothing else you could do?"

"I could put you in an ice bath," Dan suggested with a grin.

"Oh hell no!" And this time Dan did laugh out loud.

"Don't be such a wuss," he said pulling the blanket over Lucifer's feet. "Trixie endures this with less fussing than you do." That wasn't true, but Lucifer didn't need to know that.

"Well, your offspring is most likely used to this," he grumbled. "Who knows how many of these awful diseases she's had to endure. – This is all novel to me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Dan said getting up to get himself a much deserved cup of coffee. "I'm sure you had a cold when you were a kid."

"I assure you, I didn't." Lucifer yawned and by the time Dan returned he had already drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

By Sunday afternoon Lucifer felt significantly better. He'd spent the last two days chained to his sofa – metaphorically speaking of course. The Detective was still forcing medicine down his throat and up his nose. Although he had to admit that he liked this so-called nasal spray. It freed his blocked nose and allowed him to breathe normally. An almost heavenly feeling. No pun intended. His limbs still hurt and the coughing annoyed him immensely. But all things considered, he did feel better.

The Detective still hadn't permitted him to get up from the couch other than to relieve himself and he was gradually growing bored. And he smelled like a homeless person after two days of constantly sweating. Well, he couldn't be sure, because his smelling sense was still not functioning properly – another nasty side effect of this disease – but according to the overall disgusting sensation on his body he was sure he could be smelled a few feet upwind.

The Detective was busy in the kitchen cleaning dirty dishes that she had used to serve him soup. If he was quick, he could slip into the bathroom to take a refreshing shower. He hadn't even taken three steps, when she appeared in the living room, hands still soapy.

"What are you doing?"

"I would like to take a shower," he explained. "Surely you must have noticed by now that I reek."

"Are you feeling well enough for a shower? I don't want you fainting," she noted sceptically crossing her arms.

"A bath then," he suggested. "You can wash me."

"Go and shower," she said. "If you're well enough to make lewd comments, you're well enough to take a shower. – But don't think I'll help you if you do faint." Then she went back to the kitchen. Feeling high about this victory, he quickly took the much needed shower, thoroughly cleaning his hair in the process and relishing under the warm water. He felt eons better afterwards and even took the time to shave the stubble from his face. Looking and feeling like a newborn man, he emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, to see the Detective collecting her possessions.

"Are you leaving?" he asked astonished.

"I have to," she replied. "I have to pick up Trixie from Dan's. She hasn't seen me all weekend. And I have work tomorrow. – You're feeling better, your fever is down. You should be fine on your own now. – But call me if you're getting worse." He felt bad for having kept the Detective away from her home the entire weekend.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"No need to be."

"And thank you. I wouldn't have known what to do if it weren't for you – and Dan." With a blush he couldn't quite suppress, he remembered Detective Douche's administrations yesterday. He was pretty sure, he'd made a less than stellar impression by whining every time Dan had changed those awful cold compresses.

"That's what friends are for," Chloe said smiling at him. "We'd do it again in a heartbeat." He shifted from foot to foot unsure what to reply. The Detective's gaze fell on his bare feet. "And for Christ's sake put on some clothes! – I swear you have absolutely no sense of self-preservation!" He chuckled at that and hurried to comply.

"I'm leaving the medicine and thermometer in your bathroom!" Chloe called after him. "Make sure you check your temperature and take the medicine until your fever is completely gone!"

"No need for that. I won't take it. I'm feeling fine," he called back sitting on his bed to put on socks. Locking up he startled at seeing her towering in the doorway, hands on her hips and glowering at him furiously.

"What did you just say?" she asked in a deadly calm voice. Lucifer somehow sensed that this was possibly a rhetorical question and wisely kept quiet, looking at her with wide eyes. When she raised an eyebrow, he couldn't resist the urge to sputter, "It tastes disgusting!"

"Oh stop whining!" she interrupted him harshly. "I did not spend my weekend here to painstakingly nurse you back to health for you to just throw all caution to the wind the second my back is turned!" He opened his mouth to reply only to be cut of straight away. "You will take your medicine like a good boy." He bristled at being called boy. "Or I will make you regret that you didn't. Have I made myself perfectly clear?" Sensing that there was no other way out of this, he slowly nodded. She let him stew under her glare for a few seconds more and it took all his considerable willpower not to squirm like a child, until she finally let her hands fall to her sides and he visibly relaxed.

"All right," she said turning around and stepping back into the living room. He followed her cautiously. "I'll drop by tomorrow after work."

"It'll be a delight to see you again then."

"There's soup in your fridge."

"I know."

"Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

"And keep your hands off your liquor," she ordered throwing him another dark look. "It doesn't mix with your medication." He subtly tried to ignore that. "Lucifer!" Well to hell with that woman! Did she have to think of everything? "Promise that you won't drink alcohol until you're completely back to health."

"Fine. I promise." She did spend all her weekend with him. He owed her that much at least.

"Okay." She gathered her personal belongings and then pulled him down for a hug. "Bye."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he replied waving awkwardly. When she was gone he sat down on his couch and closed his eyes. His body already demanding rest again. Since he did not have any pressing matters to attend to, he relented and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
